Death Will Be My Release
by AnnamarieDanvers
Summary: Will has been reduced to nothing but a haggard drunk who has lost his respect for life at the prospect of the upcoming Gray/Castairs Wedding. Stuck between the first thing hes ever truly wanted and the one person who he's supposed to protect at all costs Will is left standing at the abyss of reality; and only Tessa can bring him back. But will he even give her the chance?
1. Preview

_Hey there readers! So this is just a little teaser for my new story "Death Will Be My Release" (This is a working title, so it is subject to change). Hopefully I'll have the first chapter up ASAP, but I am kinda sadistic, so I may let you all (shan) wait for it. MUWAHAHAHAHAHA! ;D_

_All my Love, Annamarie_

**PREQUEL**

**Will's POV**

William swirled the ice in his glass; his eyes transfixed on the sloshing whiskey. Chuckling darkly, he swallowed the rest of the glass's contents and proceeded to order his fifth drink that evening.

Will had hoped that the alcohol would numb him as it had in the past, and if that failed, at least keep him from dreaming that night.

A dark beauty swept over to him and refilled his glass. Her brown tresses falling over her shoulders in a way that made Will want to caress his hand over her neck and sweep it to the side so as to place a kiss into her shoulder.

She smiled down at the table shyly in such an endearing manner as she continued refilling his glass. But when her eyes flitted up to his, the vision of his love was shattered.

He felt his gaze turn to ice and the barmaid let out a small squeak before she left to tend to the other customers.

Will reached for his glass and glared morosely into its depths. The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat, but it was nothing compared to the knife that must surely be lodged between his ribs.

Everywhere he looked he saw her. He saw her eyes, her hair. He heard her laughter and her sigh. Every woman on the street had turned into her; phantoms flitting across his vision constantly that only under close inspection did the illusions evaporate. His heart wound give a pang any time he thought he saw her, his whole body ringing with anticipation only to plummet and leave a gaping wound when she was no where to be found.

Will had tried to stay out of the Institute as much as possible despite his anguish at the ghosts that haunted him. He did everything possible to avoid the happy couple and _her_ polite standoff manner. So he patrolled bars, took long walks around the dark alleys of Britain and even spent a night here and there in various shady brothels in an attempt to escape the agony that was Tessa Gray. But no matter what he tried, the woman would not be burned from his memory.

And oh how he wanted to _burn_.


	2. Chapter 1: A Death of Flowers

**Hey readers! Annamarie here ;) so sorry I couldn't update sooner, but what can I say? I was busy ppl, get over it ;) So here's the first official chapter, sorry if it's a little slow, but I tend to go into a lot of detail in my writing so bear with me. So I hope you enjoy my very over the top dramatic stuff and plz review so I actually know whether or not I'm doing a good job or not.**

**p.s.**

**I don't own anything, it all belongs to Cassandra Clare who should've signed a movie deal for The Infernal Devices. NOT The Mortal Instruments! :O (sorry for the rage, I'm calm now)**

**Chapter 1: A Death of Flowers**

**Tessa's POV**

I stood in a mossy grove, blue peonies blanketing the ground beneath my bare feet. Among the flowers grew one single dark blue, almost black peony. I reached for it; entranced by its nightmarish coloring.

I plucked it from the ground easily enough and drew the flower to my face. Inhaling, I was momentarily dismayed to discover it smelled of old parchment. I stared at the flower suspiciously. Fresh dew drops fell from its petals and fell delicately onto my bare hand, almost as if the flower were weeping.

_Tessa _

My name came out soft as a whisper, but yet it seemed to reverberate around me.

I clutched the peony to my chest like a little girl clutches her doll. I spun around the grove to see who had spoken, only to find myself standing on a bridge.

Rain was pouring down from a dark sky, the only light coming from the light post that seemed suspended just beyond the stone railing of the bridge.

_Tessa_

I tried to peer through the gloom, but all I could see was darkness beyond the lamplight. It was as if the world beyond this bridge had ceased to exist. Dropping the flower, I ran to one end of the bridge, hoping to find a street or a familiar face in the shadows, only to find that the light had moved with me. That I was still standing in the middle of a bridge that seemed to go on for eternity in both directions.

_Tessa_

The voice seemed to be coming from over the side of the bridge. I walked slowly to the railing, my bare feet splashing in the dirty water. Putting both hands on the railing, I squinted into the dark, trying to see something, anything. But all I could hear was the falling rain hitting the water far below me.

I stepped back from the railing only to notice I had blood on my hand. I gazed at the droplets that had fallen onto the cobblestones in confusion. I inspected my hand; there was no wound.

I glanced back at the railing where my hands had been.

Laying on the stones was the peony; crushed beneath my hand. Its blood swirling away with the rain.

At that moment, the flickering light from the oil lamp died; a veil of shadows descending down around me.

_Tessa_

I screamed.

* * *

I woke with a start; my heart hammering in my chest. _Just a dream_, I thought firmly to myself.

I shivered as the cold air caressed my skin. I thought about burying myself under my quilts, but somehow I just knew that sleep would elude me.

Glancing out the window at the still dark morning, I rose out of bed and stumbled tiredly towards my closet. Dropping my nightgown, I caught the chilly night air full force upon my naked flesh. I hugged my arms around my midriff and tried to hold back my shudders as I pulled out my new dark gray dress that I had purchased last week with Charlotte.

The dress was cool to the touch as I slipped into it and started tying the lacings. The dress had a very immodest neckline that showcased far more of my neck and collarbone than I was comfortable with, but unlike Jessamine's re-altered dresses, I was able to do the lacings by myself.

When I was finished, I grabbed a pair of black boots that I had Sophie collect for me. They were made of soft worn leather meant for shadowhunter training, and eventually for the missions themselves.

I slipped on the warm boots beneath the hem of my dress. The dresses hem was quite long, so I didn't have to worry about others seeing my footwear apparel and questioning why a woman was wearing a mans garb.

I walked brusquely towards my floor length mirror and surveyed my appearance.

I had large dark bruises under my eyes from my wrestles sleep and my skin was abnormally pale. I pinched my cheeks, satisfied with the new rosy color of my skin. However there wasn't anything I could do about the tired wrings around my eyes.

I groaned when I took in the travesty that was my hair. My hair still lay in its long plaited braid, but through my tossing and turning that night some stray locks had fallen loose and now lay in a half-hazard disarray atop my scalp. I sighed heavily as I begun to unravel my braid and smooth out my hair. My hair now hung past my well past my breasts, still wavy from my braid. I considered tying my hair up, but I wasn't nearly as talented as Sophie when it came to the art of hair.

I slipped out my door and decided to see if Jem was awake. He rarely slept through the night, and I could use his soothing presence to distract me from my strange mood.

As I walked through the hall, I couldn't help but feel as if I was being watched. I peered into the darkness, but I couldn't see anything save for a flash of gold that I must have imagined. My hand flew to my chest where my clockwork angel lay nestled between my breasts. I felt my angel flutter slightly, but then it lay still after a moment.

I shook my head at myself; _look at me, jumping at shadows_.

When I reached Jem's room, I glanced around the hallway. Will was always wandering the hallways at night and the last thing I needed was for him to see me slip into a mans room late at night. While shadowhunters were indeed most informal and had a different idea of propriety, I still didn't want to be seen slipping into Jem's room late at night. Even if he was my fiancé.

Seeing no one, I opened Jem's door just wide enough for me to slip through and shut it softly behind me, pressing my back firmly against the wood.

Jem's room was dark except for a single candle that had burned down almost completely down the wick. The wax had overflowed its holder and had begun to drip onto Jem's window sill. Judging by the amount of wax on the sill, it wasn't the first time a candle had been left alight until the early hours of the mourning.

Jem lay curled up in an armchair beside a long dead fire. His violin lay on the ground propped up beside his chair. Jem himself was snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling in time with the falling rain which was splashing against his window.

_How odd_, I thought to myself, _that I should dream of rain when it is also falling in the waking world._

I noticed how cold Jem must be and stripped the quilt from his bed and draped it over his slight frame. I brushed some of his silver hair from his brow, now white in the dim light, and placed a light kiss to his forehead.

I slipped out his door and then decided to visit the library in search of something to preoccupy my time before the rest of the institute decided it was time to start the day.

The library was slightly chilly, but my thick wool dress was enough to keep me from lighting a fire. After lighting myself a small gas lamp I began to search the shelves for my favorite book. _A Tale of Two Cities_.

I quietly searched among the mounds of books for what seemed like forever until I finally found it lying on top of an open _Dante's Inferno_ which was open to _The Ninth Circle of Hell_.

I frowned slightly the book in my hands. I wonder who would have been reading these books together. I sighed then; I knew immediately who was here.

I glanced around the library to make sure he wasn't here; somehow it felt embarrassing to read another's books.

When I was sure he wasn't here I retrieved my lamp and made my way over to my favorite window seat. Tucking my feet up and under me, I gently opened up the book to my favorite part; the introduction.

But as I flipped through the usually blank first few pages I glimpsed something that hadn't been there the last time I had sought refuge with Sydney Cartons affairs. An inscription.

I flipped back to the first page and was shocked to find my name. I didn't need to see the signature at the bottom to know who had written this. I would recognize that elegant script anywhere. With my heart thudding in my ears and the taste of tears at the back of my throat, I began to read.

_Tessa, Tessa, Tessa._

_ Was there ever a more beautiful sound than you name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn't it- a heart ringing- but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy._

_ Why have I written these words in this book? Because of you. You taught me to love this book where I had scorned it. When I read it a second time with an open mind and an open heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy of Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the woman he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die._

_ I would have chose death for a chance to tell you the truth, Tessa, if I could have been assured that death would be my own. And that is why I envied Sydney, for he was free._

_ And now at last I am free, and I can finally tell you, without fear of danger to you, all that I feel in my heart._

_ You are not the last dream of my soul._

_ You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetimes worth._

_ With hope at last,_

_ Will Herondale._

By the end of the letter I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks and I quickly tucked the book away so as not to ruin the words with them. I let out a hiccupped sob and hugged my arms around myself tightly.

I had waited all my life for a man like Will Herondale to speak words like this to me. For a man who belonged within the pages of a book. My own hero.

But Will was a real person, which made my betrayal of him all the worse. I still remember the desperate pitch of his voice, the fervor of his words as he beseeched me to choose him. To give him a chance at happiness with me; a chance he admitted he didn't deserve.

Oh, but Will deserved so much more.

I knew that I could never choose Will over Jem, even if the choice itself destroyed

me. It didn't matter what I did; someone would get hurt. But it seemed that no matter whom I chose; a part of me would always be broken inside.

I could feel my heart breaking as I thought of Wills eyes when I told him I was engaged. It wasn't fair to Will that he should suffer for wanting to preserve life rather than destroy it. And it wasn't fair that Jem could never be the only man in my heart as he deserved to be. And it wasn't fair to either of them that I simply couldn't just let them both go.

I wiped at my tears angrily; suddenly furious that I had no options that didn't leave somebody hurt and destroyed.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was rushing through the Institute and down the main flight of stairs to a branching hallway.

I had to see him.

When I reached his door, I didn't even bother knocking; opting to simply barge in and not give him the option of shutting me out.

The door, however, gave way when I knocked on it. Holding my lamp out, I stepped into the room.

There were books everywhere; but the room had changed since I had last been here.

The bed was made, yet had clearly not been slept in for awhile. The drapes were drawn tight, and dishes and cups littered the floor and every flat available surface that wasn't already occupied by toppled piles of books.

The once neat, albeit crammed, stacks of books were now strewn about and kicked to the side as if someone had tried to kick over every pile.

I took another step into the room to get a better look at some of the liquor bottles on the floor. I could hear shards of broken glass being crushed beneath the souls of my boots; the sound itself making the room seem more desolate and hopeless.

I could already tell he wasn't here, but I had to see for myself the damage I had wrought.

I hesitantly I walked farther into the room to get a better look at the half burned papers in the fireplace grate. I picked up on and immediately put it down. But I had already seen the heading

_My dearest Nate,_

I didn't need to inspect further to know that the numerous other half burned papers in the grate were addressed the same way. To know that they were all my letters to my brother. I had known that Will had read them, that he had even kept them. But I had never expected him to burn them.

I sank to the floor clutching the burned letter in one hand, and _A Tale of Two Cities _in the other; my bare knuckles scraping the ground. I didn't care about the broken glass beneath me that was cutting into my hand and making it bleed, or the soot that now stained my hands, or even the wet tear tracks still fresh down my cheeks.

Instead, I sat in the midst of the destruction and wondered how it had all come to this.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, before I started to cry.

I didn't even notice the crumpled blue peony resting on the bedside.


	3. Chapter 2: No Words

Chapter 2

No Words

**Hey readers! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Life's been busy and well… I do this in my spare time goddamn it! :-P any who… On with the story! **

**Oh, and to _37XPeeta _I completely agree. My Tessa is totally emotionally detached and kinda cold. The reason why? Because I honestly don't like Tessa's character, and that reflects in my writing. I love Will, and he loves her so I have to put up with her presence in this story. But I personally think she is extremely immature and selfish and that she doesn't deserve either Jem or Will. If I had my way, Jem would fall in love with someone else and Will would just kick a shitload of demon ass. But alas, that can never be. Readers would hate me, and I would hate me because it wouldn't be believable. (By no means does my opinion of her affect my love of the series, and if I offended anyone, that was not my intent). Feel free to review about your opinions on Tessa; Id love to hear some different opinions.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters; all rights belong to Cassandra Clare. AKA, she's the one with all the true creative power. That being said; I will seriously rage and go all mad Hulk on her ass if Tessa doesn't end up with Will. Not because I think Tessa needs Will, but because Will is absolutely hotmazing and deserves whatever the fuck we wants. Boom.**

Tessa's POV

I stayed in my room that day; locked safely away behind my now familiar walls.

Sophie had come and gone many times already; twice with tea and toast, trying to get me to eat something. I don't think I could hold down anything right now even if I wanted too; my chest felt almost hollow except for the heavy dread weighing down my stomach.

Jem and Charlotte had also come and tried to get me to at least venture out into the parlor; Jem going farther and asking if I wanted to take a little walk through the park with him. I nearly cried out at his romantic gesture; not because I was touched but because I wanted to scream at myself for wanting Will to take me instead.

I was being worse than unfaithful. At least a unfaithful wife's heart belonged to her lover. Mine was torn in two; and not equally.

_Will's greatest sin was loving Jem; mine is not loving him enough. _I chuckled darkly, my voice devoid of humor at my own thoughts.

I sighed at myself and continued to pace; it was a wonder I had not already worn a rut into the hardwood floor.

I was lying on my bed, my hands balled into fists as I lay curled on my side. My eyes were closed; the world in my head loud and demanding my attention. My thoughts were screaming at me; different vaults in my subconscious begging me to open them and delve into their yearnings.

I wasn't to sure how long I had stayed hidden away up in my room, but I had already given myself far too long alone with my own thoughts. I opened my eyes and wasn't shocked to see that the world outside my little hideaway had already grown dark. I wasn't sure of the hour but I presumed it was late if my stomach was any judge.

I didn't think I could hold anything down but a nice cup of tea I could probably manage.

When I rose from my now crumpled sheets, my joints groaned in protest but I didn't stretch them; the physical pain helping me keep my focus away from the emotional pain.

Slowly, I crept out of my door and made my way through the convoluted halls of the institute. The familiar halls were dark, but I managed to weave skillfully through the shadows.

The institute was silent. I couldn't hear Charlotte or Henry, there were no footsteps to be heard from the long corridors, and Jems violin was absent. The only noise I could hear were my own footsteps echoing in my own ears.

I crept towards the parlor; turning around slightly s I could catch the door. The door closed with a slight _snick. _I turned back towards the other door that led from the parlor to the dining area and nearly screamed when I saw a man sitting in the shadows of a dying fire.

But before a shriek could pass the threshold of my lips a cool hand had already clamped itself over my mouth, stifling my cries.

The man pressed himself close to me. My back against the wall with his body holding me prisoner.

I saw him lean in closer still and I tried to shake my head, but his mouth was already at my ear, his breath hot on my flesh, "It's me" he whispered.

I felt myself instantly sag in relief. My head fell into the crook of his shoulder and my arms encircled his waist as I let out a shaky breath.

I felt him tense under my touch, but I held him tighter, knowing this had to be the last time I let myself feel this way. The last time I took any kind of solace in his company.

Hesitantly, almost reverently I felt him respond to me. His arms gathered me against him and I felt his cool nose press into the sensitive skin of my throat. I felt rather than heard him inhale my scent deeply. How he instantly relaxed into my embrace.

I pulled back from him ever so slightly, and gazed into the eyes that were as miserable and as beautiful as any fallen angels.

"Will…" His name falling from my lips like a prayer.

* * *

Will's POV

My pulse thudded in my ears. It's beat like the fast tempo of a drum; counting down the moments that she was in my arms.

I closed my eyes against her skin; my eyelashes feathering over her jaw. She shuddered against my chest; her breaths short and ragged as she let out a sob into the crook of my neck.

I felt an immense tenderness for this woman in my arms build within me. I gathered her closer, my grip reigning her into the protective encasement of my arms. But I guess it still wasn't close enough. Her hands knotted themselves in my shirt and pulled me tight against the soft line of her body. Her movement was so unexpected that I stumbled with her into the wall, our bodies now so close that I could feel the pressure of her chest against mine every time she inhaled.

Her proximity was intoxicated; my senses were drowned in _Tessa_.

Her face tilted upwards from my shoulder and I shuddered as her soft lips pressed themselves against my jugular. I could feel her teeth graze the flesh that covered my hammering pulse and swallowed hard. She smiled against my skin and took this as an encouragement to plant more painfully sweet kisses along my jaw.

When she nipped my chin I couldn't hold back any longer. "Oh god, Tess….." I meant to say it reverently, but it came out a deep groan. My lips crashed down on her, capturing her mouth with mine.

Instantly, she became a live wire under my hands. Her finger nails abraded the sensitive skin at the back of my neck as they trailed upwards and wound themselves into my hair.

My own hands instantly dipped downwards to clasp at her narrow hips, holding them firmly against my own.

She sighed into my mouth as she dragged one hand from my hair down my chest and slipped it under the hem of my shirt.

"Tess…." I whispered as her hand worked its way up and down my chest; everywhere her fingers touched igniting a fire beneath my skin.

My kisses became forceful and almost bruising as my need for her reached an apex of desperation. Tessa was also becoming more and more emboldened and less and less like the shy little girl I had saved all those months ago. No longer did she shy from my glances or shrink at my touch. No; she _relished_ it.

Wedging my leg in between hers I somehow managed to press us even closer together. She sighed against my mouth and nipped playfully at my lower lip. "By the angel, I love you." I murmured into her hair.

* * *

Tessa's POV

It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head; chilling my very core. I froze under Will's hands, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled them from him; mourning the loss of his warmth.

His eyes had been hooded as we had kissed in the dark but now they were clear and bright. Will lifted up his hand to my face but I flinched away. "Don't. Don't touch me, Will."

He retracted his hand as if my flesh had actually stung him; a mask slipping over his features.

"I take it that this evening supposed activities are canceled then? Very well; I do suppose a busy girl like you has other arrangements." His teeth gleamed a macabre silver crescent in the night as he flashed me his trademark grin; but his acting wasn't as flawless as I had once believed. I could see the chinks in his armor; the true grimace that hid behind the smile.

But that didn't stop the tears that spilled onto my cheeks at his words. I saw him stiffen as he took full stock of my distress, but he made no move or gesture of comfort. He was a frozen statue; as silent and chiseled as any stone.

The tears flowed endlessly from my eyes, blurring my vision. We stood trapped in this one instant, neither of us moving as the droplets continued to fall onto the wool carpet beneath our feet.

I had never truly understood before this night exactly how many walls William had barricaded himself behind; how many false personas he had created to remain his own island. The weakened man that building all those defenses had left behind. Not until tonight had I seen how much he cared. His compassion, his love, even his own hate for himself, his deep rooted need not only to protect others from himself but his need to be the monstrosity so many believed him to be. This poured out of every fiber of his being and washed over me with devastating clarity.

And he loved me. I couldn't get past this, I could not ignore this fact; this truth that had been staring me in the face for months that I had convinced myself would pass.

And I loved Jem. I couldn't love Will; a woman couldn't love someone who was not her husband, not her fiancé. Will couldn't hold any place in my heart, there wasn't any room left.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything. "Will, we can't…" I started; but it was pointless.

"I know. You don't love me. You love him. I was to late." His voice was cool and clipped, yet I could hear how the words pained him to be spoken, like razor blades. And with that he was gone. He swept out of the room without another word, leaving me alone with nothing except my own sadness.

I leaned my back up against the wall and slid down until I was a crumpled heap on the cold floor.

I was alone, I was sad and all I wanted was for him to come back and tell me everything would be ok; and I hated myself for it.

**So how's you like it? I know its short but I'm already working on the next chapter. Originally, It was going to just be one large chapter, but I haven't updated in FOREVER so I figured id just post it early. Plz review, I seriously need the feedback!**


	4. Chapter 3: A Dream

** Hey, Annamarie here. So im just gonna give you guys fare warning: this chapter is VERY depressing. I cant say that I didn't enjoy writing it, because I did, but still. Pretty depressing. Anyways, so reviews are always encouraged, im sorry that this story isn't as long as id hoped, but ill probably post again sometime over the weekend. **

_**37XPeeta:**_

** True. Tessa is not the worst character; I may not like her all the time (granted most of the time), but she has her moments. And yes, her breaking Will's heart definitely doesn't help with my opinion of her, but unfortunately it's kinda like a bittersweet thing. Its all the better when the two of them cave to their inner desires when she is so hell-bent on being a prude little know it all who cant see what's staring her right in the face with gorgeous blue eyes. But hey, you gotta give Cass credit; she's definitely got us holding our breath on those two doesn't she? :-P**

**Disclaimer…... eh, you know what that means ;)**

* * *

Chapter 3 ~ A Dream

William was heart broken.

He was crushed. How could he live in a world where he had to watch his one anchor to his true self marry his brother. His brother who deserved her far more than he did.

It was a guilt that lay heavy on his chest; that he could not rid himself of his love for for something that belonged to Jem and that a part of him hated Jem for it. Jem, who was the only thing for years that held him back from a depression that would surely drive him to claim his own life. Jem who he loved dearly; who he would die for. Who a part of him hated for getting to be the one to kiss her, to hold her in the early hours of the morning, to give her children, the chance to die in her arms surrounded by their family who loved him.

Will wanted all of these possibilities for himself so desperately, so constantly the feeling of utter failure, the pain was now a constant throb beneath his breastbone. A pulse as ever present as breathing.

He was walking along the narrow boardwalk. Simply walking through the crowded streets of London as if the more distance he placed between himself and her the more the pain would dull.

Instead, all that he was accomplishing was a soaking wet hat and a pull in his gut that was calling back to her. Demanding that he go back there to that place if only so as to be close to her. Because that was the only time he could he understood why he killed demons; for innocents like her. Why he had believed in that blasted curse; because she was worth saving. Only when she was around could he see anything within himself worth loving.

Except that she didn't love him.

She loved Jem. She had made that abundantly clear in the parlor as they had embraced; as she had pushed him away.

And he didn't blame her; he shouldn't have kissed her. It didn't matter if she returned his passion, he shouldn't have been there at all knowing the affect she had on him.

He had seen her gliding through the institute and had silently followed her. It seemed that he was damned to always follow after her.

A haggard drunk was suddenly flung from a now open door to a lowly bar in the slums. The two men who had done the tossing made some slurry and derogatory comments before returning into the glow of the pub.

The man who was tossed had landed a few feet from Will; facedown in a puddle his head now bleeding from hitting the cobble stones.

Will knelt down and heaved the poor man over his shoulder and hobbled down the street a short ways to the cheap in at the crossways.

He didn't feel sorry for this Mundane; on the contrary, he envied him. He still had such a ways to go before his depression and unhappiness destroyed him. At least this fellow would have to suffer much longer if looks were any judge.

The innkeeper took Wills money no questions asked an allowed Will to haul the unconscious man to his room.

Will placed him on the bed and looked down on the mans face. He was maybe in his early to mid twenties, his gangly build appeared to be from malnutrition and little sleep. His skin was a sickly grayish color; it was clammy and his lank brown hair was now plastered against his sweaty brow.

Will's eyes remained somewhat distant as he retrained his gaze out the window and followed the street back to the tavern. His money laid heavy in his pocket though he was sure it would be empty by the end of the night if he got his way.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of sputtering and wheezing from behind him as his new friend awoke and was retching in the basin the maid had been kind enough to leave behind.

"Ah, what the hell is going on?" The man coughed as he wiped his brow and then lied back on the bed.

"You were in the middle of trying I find the answers to some horrible dilemma at the bottom of a bottle when two strapping chaps tossed you into the streets like you would muck your prize mares stalls."

The mans eyes scrunched up a bit as he deciphered Wills notion.

"Then how did I get here?"

"Some dashing young man was nice enough to deliver you to an inn and pay your way."

"And why would you do that?" he asked Will skeptically.

"Because I know what it's like to hate the cards you've been dealt; how you end up spending every waking hour trying to escape it."

The man choked out a laugh. "And what exactly could life have thrown at you that could have made you so bitter my young friend?"

"A woman."

The man gave him a knowing smirk.. "They'll do that to you. But with looks like yours I can't imagine that a woman wouldn't overlook any of your, eh, shortcomings to be your wife."

Will ignored the jibe and plopped himself down into the armchair across from the drunk. He didn't want to speak of these matters anymore so he tried steering the conversation away from her. "What's your name anyway?"

"James. James Owens."

Wills lips turned up ever so slightly at the irony of it all. Leave a James to escape the pain only to save another James and discuss it with him. "I'm William. And I believe I must be off. There are scotches and tonics to be had and I can't have you living vicariously for me. Because, unfortunately my good chap, that won't cut it."

Will rose from his chair and began striding for the door when a tired voice came from behind him.

"She'll break your heart you know."

Will stopped his hand on the door knob. "She already has." he said before he shut the door behind him.

* * *

A few hours later and definitely more than a few glasses of whiskey and vodka Will stood on the London Bridge in the pouring rain. He had an unfinished bottle of liquor clutched to his chest as he sung a song about demon pox to the open air.

"Demon pox, oh demon pox. Just how is it acquired?" he belted before indulging in another swig of whiskey.

"One must go to the bad part of town, until one-"

"WILL!" Shouted a man some ways off behind Will.

Will swiveled drunkenly, a bitter laugh cutting through the torrential downpour. "UNTIL ONE IS VERY TIRED!" Will flashed Jem a grin that while it looked like intoxicated joy showcased a private agony burning within William Herondale.

"What are you doing here?" Will slurred slightly.

Jem held up his upturned hands and tried to approach him like he would a wounded animal but Will backed up father towards the railing of the London Bridge. Jem decided to stay where he was and try to talk him down. "Will, it's late. Come home. You're drunk and acting like an idiot. Come away from there and come back with me to the institute."

"No! I won't go back there! Not to her... Haven't you heard? She doesn't love me!" He started laughing though Jem thought it sounded more like crying.

"Who are you talking about, Will? Charlotte?! Is that what this is about?"

"DEMON POX, OH DEMON POX, I HAD IT ALL ALONG!"

"Will!" Jem exclaimed as he noticed how perilously close Will had come to the stone railing that was short enough that if he stumbled into it in his drunken state he would tumble over the edge and into the Thames.

"What, James," Will asked. "Why do you suddenly care about my happiness now?"

Jem stopped his advance. "What are you talking about Will? I love you as my brother. I have always cared for your well being. Why would you ever think otherwise?" Jem was pleading with his voice for Will to come to his senses, but Will wasn't listening. He was staring of at something, or rather someone, toward the north end of the bridge.

"Will!" A strong female voice pleaded.

Wills face twisted in pain and he retreated farther back; his body now mere inches away from the short wall of cobble stones. "It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood." he murmured, his eyes transfixed upon Tessa as she hurried across the bridge to Jem's side from the institutes carriage that Will hadn't noticed before.

Jem's eyes became somewhat distant as he tried to decipher his words. When Tessa reached them she went immediately to his side. This fact didn't fail Will's notice. "Why can't we just grab him?" she whispered fervently.

"I don't want him to fall. I've been trying to talk him back, but I don't understand what he's talking about."

"Well what did he just say? I couldn't quite hear."

Jem repeated Will's last quote and waited while his fiancé tried to sift through the Herondale boys words.

It wasn't long before understanding dawned on her face. He had been quoting Macbeth; how after the ghost of Banquo has gone, Macbeth felt his guilt would never subside. That his sin would forever plague him. "Will, you are a good person," she spoke in a soft voice. "No one could dispute that. You have done no wrong that is unforgivable." Her gentle voice soothing away Will's deepest fear. The fear that his actions because of his assumed curse would forever define him and he would have to face a never ending plethora of punishment for his cruel ways.

That this life was his penance for the many wrongs he had committed in his short life. That he would have to live a life without his heart because it no longer belonged to him.

Will's eyes pinched in pain. Yes, her words may be true but they could not fill the void that was slowly widening in his chest. He had sought alcohol that night after his talk with Mr. James Owens. But the solace of a pint hadn't gifted him with the release he so desperately craved. Instead it had turned his entire world into a nightmare; everywhere he looked he saw the world drift by him by as if in a glass; unaffected by anything he had to offer.

He saw children that were theirs; not his.

He saw old couples that were them; not him and her.

He saw homes, pets, jobs, and the kind of jewelry and velvet gloves you would buy your beloved... Anything and everything he saw that gave any man joy in life was closed of to him because there was nothing he cared of beyond her.

Yes, he now had his sister. But she would grow older and create and shelter a family of her own in a few years.

He could not be a burden on Henry and Charlotte forever. Besides, they were starting a family of their own soon.

Jem would die. Whether that be tomorrow or the day after or ten years from now, he would die. Just as surely as the rains would come with the next winter in England.

There was nothing left for him. He had nothing in this life that he loved enough to live for; no one that was his. Only things to die for; his grief surely one of them.

Will jumped up upon the stones and teetered upon the edge and glanced down into the piercing dark and tried to catch a glimpse of the crashing torrents of the Thames.

"Will!" Cried Jem.

Will closed his eyes and let the slight breeze caress his flesh as the rain poured down around him and pounded upon the bridge blocking out all other sounds.

_Tessa, I love you..._ he thought as he moved to step into the abyss.

"WILL!" a voice shrieked through the darkness; the sound raw and full of utter agony.

Jem had snaked his arm around her and was holding her to him so Will wouldn't accidentally pull her over with him. He was bound as parabatai to protect will from all harm; save except himself. He had had to choose between Wills safety and his betrothed.

But Jem's efforts were for naught. Tessa broke free of his grasp and lunged for Will.

Time was suspended in this one moment. When Tessa's rushed hands could have pulled a wobbling Will into her arms and safety or hurled him headlong into the river.

Grabbing Will by the cuff of his jacket, Tessa wrenched on the fabric with all of her strength until Will toppled of the railing and into her arms.

The momentum of the fall had caused Will to fall on top of Tessa; their bodies resting in pools of water from the rain but pressed so close that the heat shared between the two was nearly insufferable.

Neither one of them moved, though Tessa could feel Wills shuddering breaths as he cried into her shoulder. "Please..." he whispered.

She choked back her own tears as she realized just how badly Will had wanted to die. How much pain she had forced him to endure.

She wanted so badly to wrap him in her arms and comfort him like he so badly needed, but Jem had reached them and was already helping heave Will to his feet.

Tessa scrambled up and hooked Will's left arm over her shoulders as Jem rushed of to retrieve Cyril and the coach.

Tessa new Will was still silently crying; his tears washing away with the rain. She tried to gather him closer if only to offer him some sort of comfort. He curled into her slightly and she tried hard to bite back the sob that was building in her chest at the hopelessness of their situation.

"The book..." he trailed of slightly. "A Tale of Two Cities."

Recognition for Tessa was instantaneous.

"Do you remember... When I said that you were the only dream I hadn't been able to stop myself from dreaming?" He asked quietly; his voice thick and raw.

She nodded wordlessly.

"I still can't stop..." he trailed of as a shudder ran through his wiry frame. "I just wanted to stop dreaming." Will turned his gaze to hers; his midnight orbs boring into hers as he allowed her to bear witness to his private hell.

"I just wanted it to stop..."

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**Yeah, so this was chapter 3. hope you guys enjoyed it. Whether you did or didn't Plz review regardless and ill post again later! **


	5. Chapter 4: A Game of Heartbreak

**Hey Readers! I am beyond sorry that this took so long to upload, I just didn't exactly know where I wanted to go with this chapter until today. Then, BAM! Idea. And I just wrote. So I hope you like it, and I will keep writing under one condition. REVIEW. Because, honestly? I don't think this chapter would have gotten written had it not been for the amazing readers out there who were nice enough to tell me what they thought of my writing. I seriously needed the pick me up to get the incentive to write this. So, keep reviewing and messaging and hounding so I can get the next chapter done ASAP!**

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_Chapter 4 ~ A Game of Heartbreak_

Jem sat quietly by Will's bedside, counting his parabatai's breaths.

Jem had never felt fear as he had earlier that night. Never had he considered the very real possibility that Will could die before him. Will was always the better fighter, the stronger man. It had never occurred to Jem what he would do if his other half were to depart this life before him; by Will's own hand or an enemy's.

Jem's imminent death had always been a constant to measure his life by. It was a fact to him; like the sun rises in the east or flowers bloom in the spring.

His expectations of his life were always minimal. He had never anticipated getting married. Had never toyed with the prospect of having children; those doors had always seemed closed to him.

He did however believe that when death did claim him, his brother would be there to ease him into the abyss.

Jem sensed a pair of inquisitive eyes on him and glanced up to the entrance of the infirmary.  
There Tessa stood simply watching him. He wasn't sure how many hours he had sat with Will but he could feel that it was late.

He nodded to Tessa; wordlessly telling her that he was aware of the hour and that he would retire shortly.

She awarded him a small smile and turned to leave. Her eyes flitted to Will's unconscious form for a moment before she slipped out the door.

Jem rose from his chair and stripped one of the other cots of its sheets; draping the spares over Will. The silver youth took in the sight of his companion and laid a hand against his ebony hair.

Will's eyes fluttered beneath his pale lids along with a vivid dream.  
Jem sighed and moved to leave but a single whispered name slowed his departure.  
"...Tess..." Will murmured sleepily. "Tess," he repeated before he quieted.

Jem stood still as his hand rested on the metal bar at the end of the bed. His brow furrowed as he attempted to decipher why his brother would be dreaming of his fiancé, because surely it was her of whom he spoke, and came up short.

A crow clawed loudly beyond the window and snapped Jem out of his reverie. He discarded the ridiculous notions that his tired mind had conjured and continued on his way to his room.

James Castairs fell asleep that night mentally and physically exhausted. He dreamt only of black and when he awoke the next morning, the transpiring within the infirmary had become nothing more than a vague memory.

* * *

Will forced his face to go slack as he pretended to sleep. He had heard someone enter the infirmary and he was not feeling particularly predisposed for any sort of conversation. Especially if it involved his actions the previous night. He could always say it had been the alcohol, but Will knew no one would believe him.

He felt the bed dip as whoever it was sat beside him.

He focused on keeping his breaths even; going so far as to move his eyes beneath his lids as if in a vivid dream.

The silence dragged on for minutes. The stranger simply sat and watched, much to Wills annoyance. He was about to roll over so he could "sleep" on his side and not have to school his features when the visitor spoke.

"Stop faking, Will. You're a horrible actor and you know it."

His eyes flew open as he glared at his sister. "I am a fantastic actor. Some have even gone as far as to say my voice and talents were as mesmerizing as that of a performer for the Globe Theatre." his tone was biting and dripping in sarcasm.

Cecily wasn't impressed. "Are you simply going to waste away in here liking your wounds like some wounded beast and allow death to drag you to the fires of hell?" Her voice wasn't cruel, though there was no room for empathy or sadness in her tone. Only blunt truth.

Will had been staring of into the corner; not wanting to see pity in his sisters' eyes. Now his eyes shot back to her with fury burning in their azure depths. "I'm no coward."

Cecily's expression remained unchanged. She had seen his anger many times over. In fact; it was a relief. She had seen her parent's depression murder all they had been and leave behind emotionless shells. To see him battle back the numbness with aggression made her almost want to smile. Anything was better than nothing.  
"No," she said, "you are worse. A weakling. How dare you leave me alone; how dare you leave your friends to burry you; how dare you be so selfish!" By now the young girl was yelling. Over the years she had learned to trap her anger in the recesses of her mind, but those barriers she had erected were toppling rapidly. She had waited for so many hours, days, months and years for her brother to come back for her and for all of her love and trust she was rewarded with abandonment. She knew he would never seek to hurt her; but the fact remained that she had meant so little to him that she; his own sister hadn't even crossed his mind last night. He had meant to leave her a second time. Permanently.

The two siblings glared heatedly at each other. "Selfish?! From you?! When have you ever thought about anyone other than yourself Cecily? Ella and I always took care of you, but when did you ever return the favor?" Will snapped. He knew Cecily's anger was like a match; quick to ignite and quick to fizzle out, but she had hit a nerve. For five years all he ever thought about was other people's safety over his own well being; and what his reward for his torture? His family was gone or hated him, and his closest companion was his own misery.

"I had to take care of myself after you left! Ellie was gone and mother and father left me alone! I had no one except you; and you left me too." Why else would she be here but for the fact that she had no where else to go?

"I couldn't stay any longer." Was Will's only apology. He would explain one day. One day he would make her understand, but he had to come to terms with his own agony before he could share it with others. Only Tessa knew his pain. Only his Tess.

"'You couldn't stay any longer'," she mocked, "That's rich. So is that what you do when someone rejects you? You find the nearest bridge?"

"Who said anything about rejection?" he hadn't told anyone why he had been on that bridge and no one had asked.

"Oh, please. You honestly think I believe what everyone else is saying about you feeling alone because everyone else here is moving on with their lives?" She raised her eyebrow at him and shook her head. "No, I see the way you look at her."

Will sighed and swung his feet off of the bed and reached for his shirt. "There is no one dear sister; I just had a bad go with a few pints. That's the last time I go to a poetry reading about marriage before a tavern. It's liable to make any man want to slit with throat over a wench who doesn't even exist." He joked as he tucked his shirt tails into his trousers.

Cecily's eyes continued to watch her brother warily. She had spent many hours sitting in town watching the people go about their day. Anything to get out of her suffocating home. She could read people, she saw through their lies no matter how convincing. It seemed this house was full of people who were experts at lying to each other as well as themselves.

She watched quietly as her brother adjusted his waist coat and strode across the infirmary towards the wide double doors. Just as he opened the door to exit Cecily spoke just loud enough for him to hear. "Her love is not worth your death."

Will stopped and glanced back at his sister. Her hands clenched tight, her lips pursed. He gave her a small sad smile. "Don't do anything stupid, Cee Cee." he said before he swept out of the room.

Cecily stood in the infirmary for a short time, simply staring after her brother who was long gone. She couldn't fathom this stranger. This man who at times could be the boy from her memory and yet so different.  
It didn't matter to her if he loved Tessa or not, though it was clear he did. It only mattered to her that her brother was alive and well. But she had seen the resolution in his eyes. He wouldn't live without her. And the next time he decided to kill himself, she had no doubt he would succeed.

For now though, she had time. Precious little, but enough. She wouldn't lose her brother again.  
She glided silently and swiftly out of the infirmary and begun her search throughout the Institute. She had to find Tessa Gray. What she would do to her when she found her she hadn't quite yet decided.

* * *

The attic. Of all the places in the in the Institute she found Theresa in the attic.

The floor was swept but still grungy from being trodden on innumerable times and the air was thick with moisture. In the dark corners of the enclosure there were countless cobwebs containing all sorts of long departed insects. The room made Cecily uneasy, and not because of the obvious decoration flaws. It was because there was _something_ here. Something happened and its essence had seeped into the rooms' very foundations. She could almost feel the overwhelming presence of anger, guilt, sorrow and lust pressing down on her.

Theresa Gray was situated on the floor. Her hands were resting casually on her knees, her head in her hands. Cecily could see the rigidness in her limbs and wondered why she would be hiding away in the attic.

A few candles sputtered and wavered in the cold draft but lit the wood rafters in odd intimate warmth. Their wax drippings pooled on the floor at their base; droplets rolling down their shafts in fat tears. Cecily guessed they had been placed here some time ago judging by the amount of accumulated wax on the floor boards.

Cecily crept forward slowly like she was approaching a scared animal. Tessa lifted her head and looked at her, or rather in her direction. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her skin blotchy and pallid from crying.

Cecily thought that she greatly resembled her brother when he was brought back to the institute; broken.

Crouching down Cecily brushed back Tessa's hair and rubbed her back in soothing circles while she calmed herself. She had been prepared to yell in her face and demand her departure from the Institute immediately and permanently. But as she murmured calmingly into the distraught girl's ear she realized that there was no need.

Tessa would leave of her own accord.

She loved Will, enough that his pain was tearing her apart and fraying her nerves. But she wasn't planning on leaving Jem for him, or she wouldn't be up here in the Institutes attic choking on her own sobs. She wasn't leaving Jem for her brother, and she loved Will. Clearly more than she loved her fiancé considering Jem's death loomed over her head daily and she had never been this distraught. So how would a woman stay with a man whom she could never love more than his best friend and brother? The answer was simple; she wouldn't.

Cecily was sure that though Tessa hadn't seen the solution yet, she would see it soon. And she wouldn't need any prompting on her part.

She would leave the Institute behind. She would leave both men and she wouldn't return. Her conscience would see to that.

So Cecily contended with making herself comfortable and settled in beside Tessa on the cold floor. She held her hand and sat with her, lending the poor girl her company. She may not have cared too much for the girl due to the circumstances but couldn't not be empathetic to the plight of heartbreak. Had the situation been different they may have been friends. They may have even been family she thought ruefully. But their circumstances were what they were and they were on opposite sides of the playing board both wanting the same thing. It couldn't be helped. All she could do was offer her company to the girl who would soon be all alone.

It had to be nearly sunrise by the time Cecily was by herself again. She had spent the evening and most of the night with Tessa in the attic. Though the human body can only handle so much crying before it gave into exhaustion. Tessa may not be human, but her shuddering sobs had left her drained and fatigued.

It was a slow trip back to Tessa's room but Cecily had managed. Tessa was fairly small so it wasn't hard to support the weak girl's weight and put her to bed.

It must have only been a few hours away from sunrise when Cecily finally extracted herself from Tessa's bedside and slipped out her door into the corridor. The hall was dark but Cecily's eyes soon adjusted. But it wasn't the lack of light that had her squinting into the darkness, but rather a sound so raw and piercingly painful that she couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

She peeked inside James Castairs room, the candles inside illuminating her face through the crack.

She couldn't help but gasp. James Castairs was playing sorrowfully on his violin, his body turned slightly towards her. He played near the room's fireplace, the fire dying slowly, the embers casting a red glow over the floor. The room was dimly lit by two candles on his mantle, gifting the room with a soft sort of radiance. His shirt lay cast aside on his sheets allowing her to see the thin cords of muscle weaving through his pale limbs. The starkness of his Marks was a dramatic contrast to the gentle luminance of his skin. His suspenders were slack against the backs of his knees, dangling still from his dark trousers. He must have gotten distracted halfway through changing she surmised. His hair fell around his face in tussled disarray. The light silver locks mussed lightly around his brow. She wondered what it would feel like to touch hair like that. Would it be thick and coarse? Or would it be light and smooth as fine silk as she suspected?

His eyes were closed as his fingers expertly weaved a song so sad that it would have had most women weeping at its brilliance. But Cecily was drawn to the pain. She heard the notes as a passionate lullaby; a plea for mercy; a cry for understanding. She heard the words that he was unable to voice, so instead he played.

And oh, how he played beautifully, she thought. She sat quietly on the floor next to his door and leaned against the wall and simply listened. It was hauntingly lovely she thought. Like the cry's of the wolves in the countryside near her home. She used to listen to them for hours beside her window late at night back home. But it was always in envy; envy that they could express their anguish. No one was deaf to their pleas.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat listening to Jem but she had fallen asleep at some point without even realizing it. She came slowly back into awareness only to find herself extremely disoriented. Instead of a cold hard floor she was curled up in a comfortable warm bed that smelled deliciously of something crisp like mint, yet warm and heady like cinnamon. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and let her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. With a start she realized she was in Jem's room, though the fire had now completely gone cold and the walls were no longer cast with the flickering candle lights. Her shoes were at the foot of the bed; she glanced down at herself and saw she was indeed still fully dressed.

Searching the room again, she found Jem asleep and breathing softly in a small chair by the draped window. His chin was resting on his chest and his hair fell into his closed eyes bestowing him with an almost boyish charm. She also noticed with some worry that he was slightly shaking in his sleep. 'From the cold?' she wondered.

Gathering one of the quilts atop the bed around her, Cecily slid of the bed and padded barefoot over to Jem. Reaching back she drew the other quilt towards her and begun arranging it around his slight frame.

He must have found me and carried me inside, she thought. She found it incredibly endearing that he had been so kind and gentlemanly to care for her and stand vigil over her, yet not use that to take advantage of her in her vulnerable state.

As she was arranging the quilt, her fingers brushed the hair that spilled onto his collar (he had donned a shirt, she noted with relative disinterest). It was fine, like baby's hair. And seemed to fall right through her fingers like water. She brushed his hair gently off of his brow only to notice that a pair of opalescent eyes were staring inquisitively back at her.

She didn't blush at being caught, no; instead she blinked up at him innocently. She knew men were drawn to her almost violet eyes; eyes that were thickly rimmed with curling dark lashes.

A slow blush started to creep up Jems throat as his blood flooded through his cheeks. She gave him a half guilty smile.

She moved to stand but Jem caught her wrist in his hand. He stared at his own hand as if he hadn't meant for it to move and then glanced back at Cecily his mouth already open meaning to apologize. Cecily shook her head slightly; silently assuring him there was nothing to forgive. The motion caused an ebony lock to fall in front of her face. Jems hand instantly came up and swept the lock back behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek ever so slightly sending chills down her spine and an odd yearning to bloom in her stomach. His fingers rested for a moment just under her jaw, his eyes boring intently into hers. She shivered involuntarily though it had nothing to do with the cold.

Somehow they had slowly moved closer together, their faces merely a hand breathe away. She felt Jems hand quake a little beneath her fingertips. Her eyes were watching his lips; so gently curved, to wonderfully bowed. His breath was warm on her face, his scent both arousing and calming. His lips touched hers slightly, feathering her delicate skin only enough to tease both of them.

The sun had begun its assent into the sky and suddenly crested over the buildings of London. Its golden light breaking through both shadowhunters thoughts as its rays shone through the gap in Jems drapes.

Jem glanced back at the sun; angrily cursing its intrusion. He drew the drape closed to block out the light, trying to bring back that private intimate world that existed only in the dark moments before dawn. It was pointless, he knew, but that moment was escaping him fast, like that of a dream you remember less and less when you wake.

Jem turned back to Cecily only to realize that his room was empty. Like how his mother used to chase away his childhood demons with her lullabies, the sun had chased away the memory of Cecily Herondale. With the morning came the lifting of the fog that had perforated his mind; and with it guilt.

He reached for his violin.

From the hall Cecily could hear Jem's violin, its tune harsher and more sorrowful than that of last night. She turned and started stumbling down the corridor towards her room, her fingers to her lips, and the woeful cry of James Castairs violin in her ears.

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**Ta-DA! Chapter 4 is done….. it only took like 2 months :-P (sorry) so Plz, review, and hopefully you enjoyed**

_XOXO Annamarie_


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